Seven Stories
by Staci'story
Summary: Seven stories of seven people in seven chapters.
1. Ron

**Ron**

One night after dinner, when everyone was helping clear the table, Bill pulls Ron outside. He hadn't said a word by the time he starts pacing, and continued his silence as he begins running his hands through his hair.

"What?" asks Ron impatiently, inching towards the door.

Bill, suddenly turning on the spot, grabs the back of Ron's neck and pulls him into a hug.

"We never knew if you were dead or alive, you know?" Bill tells Ron, breaking the embrace by stepping back. "Tell me what's going on, I can't handle not knowing my little brother isn't safe."

"Bill, I've told you before, I can't tell you. This is the job Dumbledore left us three, and if he chose not to tell anyone else, there must be a reason," Ron hurriedly explains again.

Bill starts walking towards the cliff, his hands deep in his pockets. Ron makes a move to walk back inside, but Bill calls over his shoulder, "Walk with me." Ron sighs and follows, almost reluctantly.

Once they reach the edge of the cliff, Bill turns left, walking further from the house. Neither of them speaks as they continue this quiet interaction. Once they are far enough from the cottage, when it is no bigger than a shell, Bill stops. Ron almost runs into him.

"You've got to stop this nonsense."

"What nonsense?" Ron demands, throwing his arms up.

"This complex you have, you think you're all alone, it's not you three against the world, y'know. There are others here who have to fight this too. I know you want to leave our family out of this, but Ron, that can't happen. You-Know-Who is everywhere, it's only a matter of time before he finds you three again. And you kids need help—!"

"There you go again!" Ron interrupts. "We're not kids anymore! We're all of age, and we can do what we need to do by ourselves!"

"You're still my brother though!" Bill yells back.

Ron scoffs. "Yeah, well, you have plenty more, no need to worry so much about me then."

"Goddammit, you don't get it, do you, Ron?" Both men's shoulders slump at this comment.

"What?"

"I wouldn't be telling any of them not to do this!" Bill yells again. Ron's confusion shows on his face, and Bill explains, "You…you're my little brother, the youngest, you…you've always been…I like you more than the rest," he finally spits out.

Ron's face breaks into a smile. "I'm gonna tell Charlie, he'll be mad as hell." Leave it to Ron to turn a serious conversation into a competition between siblings.


	2. Hermione

This was not part of the plan, not scheduled in the agenda, so why was it happening?

_Oh_.

"Ron?" Hermione calls, hearing the door to the apartment open. She sits down on the corner of the bed, the totality of the situation finally washing over her as the footsteps walk closer.

Ron enters their room, still pulling his gloves off, the snow on his boots melting all over the carpet. "Hullo," he mutters, leaning down to kiss the top of her head as he passes through to the bathroom.

She takes a deep breath, working up the courage to tell him before she breaks down into tears again. He didn't even look at her face.

"Hermione," he says slowly, "what is this?" He's in the door of the bathroom, holding up the test.

"Positive," she answers, breaking into sobs again.

"Blimey. But…how?" he asks, dropping the test and stumbling over to her, still not looking at her face.

"_I dunno, Ronald_," she hisses through the tears, "maybe last weekend, _or_ the week before that, _or_ in the car, _or_ over holiday, _or_ any time in between, _you choose_."

"Hermione…." He kicks off his boots and sits down on the bed next to her. "This isn't a bad thing, y'know." He tries to take her hand but she pulls away.

"Of course not, but it sure isn't _good_! This is not how this is supposed to happen! We were supposed to be married and own a house before we started making a family, not start from the end! _This is not in the plan_."

Hermione lets the sobs take over, her head falling, and Ron moves closer so he can comfort her. He wraps his right arm around her shoulders, using his other hand to lift her chin. She looks at him, the fear plastered all over her face. He moves his hand down, past her shoulder, her elbow, her hand, and finally reaches her stomach, flattening his palm against the fabric of her shirt.

"That can all change, we can make that happen," he finally reassures her.

"_How_?"

"We can buy a house, we can get married, it's not like we weren't going to. This is just the trigger, y'know?" He runs his hands through his hair, as if trying to convince her as much as himself.

"We can't just get married because I'm pregnant! That's not how it's supposed to happen!" She pulls away, standing up. She starts to pace, her arms folded as she glares at the floor.

"But that's how it's going to happen regardless, so we might as well not fight it," Ron counters, standing up as well. He pulls her in close to him again, placing another hand on her stomach. "This doesn't change anything but the order in which the "plan" is written." They both glance down at her stomach.


	3. Harry

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry nervously asks.

"Yes?" he answers, rummaging through the drawers in his desk.

"Well, I was…it is customary, in Muggle ideals…" This is not coming out as easily as harry had hoped. It is a simple question after all, nothing life changing. Well, it is life changing, but the question in itself is not. "I was just wondering…"

Mr. Weasley is still searching through his drawers, not even looking up, thankfully. Harry's face is bright red.

"In…in Muggle customs, it's proper for a man to go to a woman's parents...in most cases the father—such as now—so he can ask for permission." Harry steps away from Mr. Weasley's desk, contemplating if he should just leave, considering Mr. Weasley doesn't seem to be paying attention. "I'll just leave you to your work then, Mr. Weasley. My questions can wait until you aren't as busy." Harry grabs for the doorknob.

"Oh, I apologize, Harry, I just can't seem to find my postage stamp collection. I hear Muggles find that sort of hobby amusing and I can't yet figure out why…"

"Well, some keep those sort of collections in books, sort of like photo albums…," Harry suggests, trying to distract him from his earlier intentions.

"Oh, well, don't you think that's strange? I keep mine in boxes, like the jewelry boxes rings come in, they're the perfect size." Harry is flustered, this is too much of a coincidence. "I keep them organized by year."

"That's great, Mr. Weasley, but—I should really go now, I have some stuff I have to get done before tonight."

"Didn't you have something you wanted to talk to me about though?" he asks, looking up from his drawers.

"Oh, yeah, well that can wait…wait until another time."

"Are you sure, m'boy?"

"Yes, definitely." Harry twists the doorknob, turning to finally leave. "I can always talk to you whenever I come over for dinner."

"Yes, yes, of course, goodbye, now," Mr. Weasley says cheerfully.

"Bye."

_I'll ask him tomorrow when I come for dinner, I swear. I can do this, this is nothing. I've done for worse things, I can be braverthan this, this shouldn't even be as scary as I'm making it…_

Harry makes it to the elevator, before he realizes he has to face his fears. This wasn't going to go away and tomorrow was too late to be asking. He turns around and runs back to Mr. Weasley's office, not finding another excuse to wait any longer.

"Mr. Weasley!" Harry almost shouts, out of excitement.

Mr. Wealsey's papers fly out of his hand from the fright. "Oh, Harry!"

"I wanted to ask if I could marry Ginny!" he yells again, a smile breaking out across his face.


	4. Draco

"Father, this is my choice," Draco yells, as Lucius continues walking out of the room. "I'm marrying her even if you don't approve of her family!"

"How dare you," he spits, turning around to face his son. "Her family! _Her family_! This has nothing to do with her family!" he screeches, approaching his son again. "This is about her filthy blood and that damned _mudblood_ she calls a mother!"

"Who is her _family_!" Draco counters.

"Enough of this senselessness! I forbid you to marry her! That is final." Lucius turns away, the door almost shutting behind him.

"I love her!" Draco yells. "Goddammit, _father_, after all I've done in the name of this family, I have the right to ruin my name however I want!" He takes a deep breath. "Not like you didn't already sabotage it enough!"

Lucius storms back in, his wand out and point at his son's chest. "How dare you insult me!"

"How dare _you_ try to tell me what to do!" Draco draws his wand angrily. "You were never there for me, for almost _sixteen_ years, then you go away to Azkaban, and now you expect me to listen to you?" His wand shoots some sparks, brought on by the anger. "No, father, you're finished controlling me when you see fit."

Lucius turns on his heel and struts out of the room. "You just sealed your fate, you are no longer welcome in my home."

Draco's shock and hurt doesn't register on his face, if he is even feeling any. In his anger, he rushes out of the house before saying goodbye to his mother.

Astoria's in her bathroom, painting the walls a forest green, when Draco finds her.

"Shit, Draco, damn, I wanted to have dinner ready by the time you got here—wait what time is it anyways? It can't be seven yet," she explains, turning around and trying to find a place to put her paint brush. "Why _are_ you here so early?" She finally puts her brush down on the paint lid and starts to wash her hands.

"I…I just—I'll wait in your kitchen until you clean up."

He sits down at the table, pulling the little satin box out of his pants pocket. Laying it on the counter, he stares at it, wondering if it's the right time to do this. After all, he is angry; this could be his irrational thinking making his spontaneous decisions. It shouldn't happen like this, it should be better than this: better than an unexpected visit and Astoria in paint clothes.

Draco watches as Astoria's bedroom light turns off, and shoves the tiny box back into his pocket before she can see it.

"How about we go out to dinner then," he suggests, "you look like you've done enough work today."

She sighs and walks over to the table, leaning across so she can be level with Draco. "How about you cook then?—because I don't want to get dressed."

"Chinese it is then." They both laugh. "Chow mein or low mein?" he asks, standing up and putting his jacket back on.

"Low." She pulls an old sweatshirt. "I'll come with you," she says, pulling her hair back into a bun.

He nods his head as he holds open the door for her. She wraps her arm around his waist as the walk towards the elevator, the cold of the winter finally showing itself. He pushed the button and they wait.

They step in and she asks, "So how's your father?"


	5. Ginny

"Alone at last," Ginny whispers to her sleeping baby. "I never thought it would happen, did you?" She tucks the end of the blanket in my firmly as she leans back on the bed, cradling James in her arms.

The past week she hadn't been alone with him, not once, ever since she came home from St. Mungo's, every friend, relative, and neighbor has been over to see James. Her mum alone had been here every day, then Hermione every other, even Fleur was here three out of the seven days. Not that Ginny minded, it was work keeping up with the concept of motherhood, it was nice to have others around to help. On the other hand, she wanted time alone, so she could get to know James.

Mrs. Weasley was not short on giving helpful hints, or taking the baby out of her hands the moment he stated to cry. It was like magic, the way she could calm him instantly with her rocking and patting. After seven kids though, she was a pro after all. Hermione, on the other hand, played the dutiful role of "favorite aunt," bringing over toys that James couldn't quite play with yet, and making sure Ginny got the loads of gossip that was going on. It was nice, having a friend who wasn't a mother yet, it gave Ginny a chance, for once, to teach Hermione a few tricks. Then Fleur, she was a baby lover alright. Every time she was over, the whole time she held James, fed James, changed James, rocked James; it's like she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Oh, how weird it feels to be alone, don't you think?" she asks, looking down at James again. "But Daddy will be back soon, and it won't feel so abnormal."

Harry. Harry was made to be a father, even if he didn't know it yet. If he was holding James and he so much as whimpered, Harry handed him over to one of the many others there. He had never been around babies, ever. Even with Teddy, he was only godfather after all, so he needn't actually take care of him. But every night when Ginny woke up, she'd roll over to Harry, and he wouldn't be there. He'd be sitting in the rocking chair at the end of the bed, looking into the cradle, intently watching James.

Ginny hears the door open and slowly stands up, pressing James gently to her chest as she goes and looks for Harry.

"Ginny," he softly yells from the kitchen, as he begins opens the box of pizza and puts a couple pieces of it onto a paper plate. "I brought home dinner," he says, as he sees her enter the room.

"Thanks." She smiles. "Would you mind holding James while I go take a shower?"

"Sure, but—"

"Try not to set him down if you don't have to," she recommends, "he's been a bit fussy whenever I've tried to today."

"Yeah, okay, but—"

Ginny kisses him, then hands James over, watching as he awkwardly adjusts his arms so James is held correctly.

After her shower, Ginny walks back downstairs into the kitchen to find Harry standing with the back door open, watching the wind blow autumn leaves around as he talks to James.

"You terrify me, you know that? I've gone up against the most evil wizard of all time, more than once, winning each time; and yet, you bring me to my knees. See, with him, I was only losing _my_ life if I failed, but if I mess up with you, I lose so much more. You're…you're my son, I still can't wrap my mind around it."

_He will be a great father_, Ginny thinks as she smiles, and walks out of the room.


	6. Neville

"I know you don't understand, I know you don't actually listen to me when I talk to you. But…I hope you're proud of me." Neville looks out the window in the hospital, thinking back to weeks ago when he was fighting in battle. "I did it, Mum and Dad, I finally fought like you guys did. And I won. Grandma says you'd be proud of me, at least I know she is now. I only wish Mrs. Weasley would have left Bellatrix to me…you deserved that much from me. I regret not being able to finish her like I vowed to, but she's dead all the same."

Mrs. Longbottom just smiles at Neville's elbow as he talks and Mr. Longbottom tries to flatten out his bed sheets with his legs still under them.

Sometimes Neville wishes they would snap out of it, like they have the option to, because he wants nothing more than for them to talk. They would be able to tell their stories about when they were in the Order and when they went to Hogwarts. They could be actual parents. Other days he just wishes they'd die already, because them being alive still gives him slim hope that they might break out of the stupor. Seventeen years of unfulfilled dreams, and yet he can't give up hope.

"I was brave, I fought alongside Auror's and skilled wizards… Kingsley even offered me a job as an Auror. I want to take it, then I'd be like you, Dad," Neville says. "I don't even have to take my NEWTs, luckily, because otherwise I would have no hope. I'm scared though…because if I fail, I'd be failing you guys again, and I don't know if I can do that to you… I want you guys to be proud of me. I still…I—I want you to know that I'm doing all of this for you two."

His mum hands Neville the button from her shirt, after working to pull it off for the past half hour. He takes it with a smile, but feels like crying.

"I used to want to…I don't know what else I've ever wanted actually, other than to impress you, to make you proud. You were so brave…and I never could be. Until now. And I know everyone's saying that's all that matters now, because I was brave when it counted the most. I'm just angry with myself for not finding my courage until seventeen years too late. I could have done more if I was just able to find it sooner, I know it. I might have even been able to save more lives at the battle…"

Neville's dad stands up from his bed, so he can go watch out the window at the empty street below, watching for cars to pass, he likes waiting for car horns.

"I even killed a bit of Voldemort, y'know. Yeah, he split his soul—something I didn't know at the time, but Harry explained it to me later on—and he put a bit of it into his snake, and I killed the snake with Gryffindor's Sword. The sword is the only reason I believe I'm brave, if it were just my friends and other fighters telling me so, I would never believe them. That sword only shows itself to true Gryffindors, courageous Gryffindors, in their time of need…and I got it. It still overwhelms me."

Neville hears the door at the end of the room open and stands up quickly, getting ready to leave. He doesn't like talking to his parents when other families are here, he like having private—one sided—conversations with them.

"Well, I just wanted you two to know what happened…I hope you're proud of me," he says firmly, trying hard to make them believe his words, still wishing they would say them back to him.

"Come on, Neville, I think it's time we leave, or we might be late to Harry and Ginny's," Luna says, finally reaching the end of the room.

"Yeah—yes, I know, I was just saying my goodbyes." He turns to her slightly, willing Luna to understand he'll be right out.

"I'll meet you downstairs then," she confirms, knowing he wants one minute more alone with them.

Once the door shuts behind her, Neville speaks again, "Goodbye, I'll try to stop by in the next week , hopefully I can bring some cake or something, to celebrate my birthday, I know you'll like it," he tells his parents, knowing they aren't really listening. "I love you," he whispers, "goodbye."


	7. Luna

The first time Neville tried kissing Luna, she didn't even kiss him back, instead she froze, afterwards she asked, "What was that?" And ever since then they had been together. In a sense, anyways. They weren't like a normal couple, they were unique. It was a melding of minds, a bonding of personalities, and an understanding of each other. They talk all the time, there is rarely ever a stretch of silence, unless appropriate. Everything from herbology to wrackspurts, food to thestrals, Diagon Ally shops to school; all mixed into one, never ending, conversation.

After going to a Quidditch game with Ron, to watch Ginny play, because Harry and Hermione were working, the two decided to go to a café.

"What would you have to order, dearies?" the waitress asks as they're sitting down.

"May I have a coffee?" Neville asks, and she nods.

"I would like…oh, you don't have butterbeer—well, a water then," Luna orders, as the waitress looks confused.

Neville taps his fingers against the wood tabletop briefly. "I think the game went well, luckily we caught the Snitch before they were too far ahead of us."

"Yes, yes, but it looked like the Beaters on the other team were suffering from Loser's Lurgy, don't you think?" Luna speculates.

He laughs gently at Luna's logic. "That could be why they barely were able to aim the Bludgers, wouldn't it?" He laughs again and restarts his tapping.

"Maybe I should write a letter to the coach, informing him of his players' illnesses?" She looks out the window of the café as she is speaking. "I don't want any other teammates to be infected with it. It's easy to cure, but albeit even easier to catch."

Neville laughs harder this time, but Luna doesn't seem to notice, because after all this time, he has learned not to question Luna's beliefs. No matter how ridiculous, she believes them and he can't change that.

The waitress comes back with their drinks, asks if they want any food, but they both decline, having eaten so much stadium food during the match. They continue to talk, but this time about Luna's upcoming trip to Norway, on a research trip to find new species of fairy, or at the very least get some samples of the plant life along the sea line, figuring out their potion-making properties. Then the conversation turns to Christmas holiday, which seems to be fast approaching. Neville then invites Luna and her father to his grandmother's for dinner, seeing as it would be just the two of them otherwise.

They step back out into the cold of the night, the brisk air whipping at their faces. Neville reaches out for Luna's hand to hold, not quite finding enough courage to put his arm around her shoulder.

"I'll walk you back to your house then?" he offers, indicating to the darkness.

"If you don't fear the yeti, yes," Luna smiles.

"I think I can fight him off," Neville jokes.

So they apparate to her house, her father working upstairs in his office, most likely writing another _Quibbler_ article.

"I'll come by tomorrow if I can, after work, if I don't have any students in detention."

"That's fine." Luna smiles again. "Well, goodnight, Neville."

He lets go of her hand. "Yes, goodnight, Luna." As he says this, she reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses him. "What was that?" he asks.


End file.
